


Bonfire Heart

by abovethesmokestacks



Category: Picnic - Inge
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/M, I am just... such a sucker for Hal, Mating Cycles/In Heat, beware there will be smut, inspired by tumblr ask, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovethesmokestacks/pseuds/abovethesmokestacks
Summary: It’s a rare occurrence getting drifters passing through the pack. Most often, it’s Betas or Omegas travelling through the pack’s turf, and then it’s only for a night, a few days tops. Even rarer are the Alphas that come through looking for a place to stay for a while. It creates tension, an Alpha stranger most often means a challenger, someone seeking to take over.Not Hal.There’s no mistaking his presentation when he arrives, duffel hanging jauntily off his shoulder, his scent pulling at you, begging for you when he passes you by in search of the pack Alpha. It’s intoxicating, warm and woodsy, a bonfire at night. Hidden underneath is an undertone of engine oil, sharp in contrast but perfectly balanced. You almost miss the way his nose twitches, how his eyes flit around before they land on you, the quick smile before being pulled back when your pack alpha calls for his attention.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Next up in the Great Crossposting of 2019. Two part fic about the lovely Hal Carter based on an anonymous ask sent into tumblr user bucky-plums-barnes. Part two will be posted tomorrow or Sunday.

It’s a rare occurrence getting drifters passing through the pack. Most often, it’s Betas or Omegas travelling through the pack’s turf, and then it’s only for a night, a few days tops. Even rarer are the Alphas that come through looking for a place to stay for a while. It creates tension, an Alpha stranger most often means a challenger, someone seeking to take over.

Not Hal.

There’s no mistaking his presentation when he arrives, duffel hanging jauntily off his shoulder, his scent pulling at you, begging for you when he passes you by in search of the pack Alpha. It’s intoxicating, warm and woodsy, a bonfire at night. Hidden underneath is an undertone of engine oil, sharp in contrast but perfectly balanced. You almost miss the way his nose twitches, how his eyes flit around before they land on you, the quick smile before being pulled back when your pack alpha calls for his attention.

Later, you hear a few of the other omegas titter about the handsome Alpha, how he’s gonna be staying, helping out, how he’s been offered a place on the outskirts.

“They wanna be sure he doesn’t try anything.”

“He can try  _me_  whenever he wants to!”

“You have no shame!”

“As if you wouldn’t present for him!”

It makes jealousy flare up in you, sudden and followed by shame and defeat as you turn on your heel to hurry home. There’s no reason for the sudden spike in your emotions. He’s barely laid eyes on you, and in comparison to the giggling omegas, you’re far from the grand prize. Your parents keep expecting you to find someone, if not a mate, then at least a heat partner, nursing some small hope that an arrangement would spark something more. You tell them you’re fine on your own, the suppressants take the edge off, too self-conscious and scared to voice your fear that maybe you’ll never find anyone.

Coming home, you’re all but equipped with your own personal rain cloud over your head. You’re ready to call it a day, to trudge into your room and torture yourself with silly daydreams. His scent still lingers in your nose, teasing you with scenarios that could easily turn your defeat to desire. You’re surprised to find your father home already, rummaging through the linen closet, picking out towels and sheets.

“Dad?”

“Peanut!” You scrunched your nose at the name, managing to disguise it as a smile. “Didn’t think you’d be home already.”

Of course he didn’t. Nodding to the stack in his arms, you deflect the attention, “What’s going on? Are we having guests over?”

“Sort of,” you father replies, turning back to reach for the stack of pillow cases. “Got a visitor passing through, needed a place to stay, some work. Told the Alpha the boy could stay in our cabin, do a couple of odd jobs for me if he was okay with it. Seemed a decent enough fella.”

Your heart skips a beat. The new Alpha would live in your family’s cabin? It’s a small, modest thing, more of a shack that has been used as everything as an escape for rutting alphas to hunting trips. During your early teenage years, you and your friends would sometimes have sleepovers there, pushing the narrow beds together and build a messy nest that you’d cosy down in and play silly games and tell each other horror stories that had all of you sleeping with one eye open. Now he would be there.

“Peanut?”

“Hmm?” You look up, finding your father looking at you, holding out the stack in his arms.

“I said, would you mind coming with me? No one’s been in that cabin for a while, we might need to fix up a coupla things.”

Come with? Possibly see the handsome Alpha again? Containing your excitement is hard, but you manage a small nod, taking the bedding and the towels to put them in a bag. The cupboard is right outside your bedroom, and when you pull out a suitably-sized bag for the bedding, you see your own bed, made up with all the fluffy pillows and blankets. You worry your lower lip. The cabin has the bare essentials. Small kitchen with a mini fridge. Cots, a couple of scratchy blankets and, in your memory, the lumpiest pillows in existence. Last time you and your friends had gone there, you’d brought your own.

You hesitate only for a second, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the coast is clear before ducking into your room, pulling one of the pillows from your bed and stuffing it in the bottom of the bag, piling on the sheets and pillowcases and towels to hide it, as if you were smuggling forbidden contraband. Your heart thunders when your father calls you from the other end of the house, asking if you’re ready. Clutching the bag tightly, you hurry out, climbing into the pickup, your breath catching when you’re asked to shift to the back of the cab.

“Promised we’d pick him up, can’t have him cramming into that tight space, Peanut,” your father jokes, and it’s all you can do to force a strained chuckle across your lips.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Your father is there, you will have to restrain yourself. No, it won’t be so bad.

It’s downright horrible.

He’s so amicable, all pleases and thank you’s when he talks to your father, all too happy to show deference to a Beta and follow his lead. His face lights up, or so you imagine, scent mellowing when he spots you in the car, holding out his hand for you to shake when your father introduces you.

“Hal Carter, miss, how do you do? Hope I didn’t put you out too much having you tag along like this.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you demurely assure him it’s no trouble, none at all. Mercifully, your father takes charge of the conversation, allowing you to sit back and bask in the Alpha’s pleasant scent, listening to him answer your father’s questions. He’s just passing through, not sure for how long, but he’s real grateful for the roof over his head and the opportunity to help out wherever needed. He hasn’t really got a pack, never did find one where he felt he fit in, he can understand people are being suspicious. The car jostles, a bump in the small road sending you hurtling forward, bracing yourself on Hal’s shoulder. A hand comes up to cover yours, warm and with a steady grasp.

“You all right there, miss?” Hal’s looking at you, worry mixing with curiosity in his blue eyes.

A nod is all you manage, suddenly so close to him, his scent strong in your nostrils even though he clearly tries to tone it down, and suddenly you’re thankful you’ve already had your Heat. If he’s this intoxicating, suppressants might not matter much.

“You okay there, Peanut?” Your father, gods, you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for making you flinch away from Hal. “Better hold on, you know this road ain’t getting any better.”

Of course you know. You’ve travelled it enough times before, but now there’s a handsome Alpha in the same, confined space who smells delicious and the little cabin can’t come into view fast enough. By the time your father pulls up on the narrow driveway, you’re ready to claw your way out the back window.

“There you have it, son. It’s not much, but should keep you warm.”

He keeps talking to Hal, pointing and telling him just where to find the firewood and the kindling and where to meet up for the logging work tomorrow, all while your nerves are firing you and telling you to either jump out the window or jump Hal. It’s a sweet relief when the doors finally open, letting in a waft of fresh air. Your relief, however, is shortlived. The passenger seat is pulled forward, a tanned hand reaching in to help you out.

“Miss?”

You swallow, a wobbly smile on your lips while you climb out, pulling the bag behind you. Hal, insists on carrying it, despite your protests that it’s neither heavy, nor a nuisance for you. Something sparks low in your stomach when he tells you he wouldn’t be much of an Alpha, even less of a gentleman if he let such a pretty and gracious Omega carry a bag that should rightfully rest on his shoulder.

“I hope you don’t mind being a bit isolated like this,” your father interjects.

It is isolated, almost to the point where you wonder if it’s not excessively so.

“Not that there’s much happening around here, pretty quiet town,” he continues with a little chortle. “I’m sure you could hitch a ride back downtown for the weekends for the bars and dances if that’s your kinda thing…”

“I appreciate the offer, sir. Don’t wanna put you out more than I already have,” Hal replies diplomatically, swaying on the heels of his boots.

“It’s nothing, son, nothing at all.” That’s your father, the typical Beta, a great equalizer. “Now, there is a mini fridge inside, but it’s precious more than something to store drinks and maybe something small. I’ll get you the generator tomorrow so you can fire it up. You’ll get lunch at work, but unless you’re good with a wood burner, there’s not a lot of opportunity to fix an extravagant dinner.”

“As long as I get coffee, I’ll be fine, sir. Maybe I could trouble you to take me into town tomorrow so I can buy myself some food?”

“Oh, of course, of course! You might even find some coffee grounds in there. I’ve got you a coupla jugs of water on the flatbed, should see you through the next few days…”

Your father falls silent, his eyes flicking from Hal to you and back, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. Hal might miss it, but you know your father. He’s up to something.

“Say, my wife is one helluva cook. Makes the best mac’n’cheese you’ll ever taste. She cooks like it’s going out of style, you’d think we were feeding a whole platoon.”

Oh god.

Hal, bless his heart, hasn’t caught on, but you’re trying to stare panicky daggers at your scheming father.

“We could set aside a decent serving for you, Peanut here could bring it out for you in the afternoons.”

You both break into protest, you because it is so transparent and regardless of your feelings for the Alpha this was just blatantly pushy, and Hal because it would be another imposition. Hearing each other, you then turn to argue against your points, only for the whole thing to end with your father getting his way. Fifteen minutes later you leave, all of the supplies you’d brought unpacked, convinced Hal would be okay for the night.

“Dad…” you sigh, glaring at him and his pleased little smile.

“I did nothing!” He holds up his hands in defeat for a moment, quickly grabbing the wheel again when a bump in the road veers the car to the side. “I just thought you might like each other’s company! He’s a fine young alpha, polite as ever. We’re just being good hosts.”

You grumble under your breath, trying to fight the smug curling in your stomach, your wolf purring in agreement.  _Such a handsome man, a fine alpha indeed…_  Clenching your teeth, you push the thoughts away, trying to replace them with your father’s poor excuse. You’re being a good host. It’ll be fine. It’s just taking dinner to him. Five minutes of conversation, if that. You’ll be fine.

You’re not fine. Your knuckles pale as they grip the plastic container of meatloaf, mash and greens. Hal has swung the door open following your timid knock, jeans deliciously low-slung on his hips, a smudged wifebeater hanging from his hand. He is so gloriously Alpha, the scent strong now, a forest fire setting your instincts aflame as you try not to stare at his chiseled torso, the tanned skin and the small patch of hair, barely noticeable against his complexion, leading down and into his jeans.

“Oh, pardon me, miss, I just- It was-“

His eyes darken just a little, and you realize you must be projecting your desire, bringing a dark flush to your cheeks.  _You’re better than this,_  you berate yourself,  _you can keep your feelings in check._  Hal swallows thickly, turning around and mumbling to just wait a second. He returns moments later with a clean shirt on, his scent muted once again, but his gaze never meets yours for longer than a fraction. When you hold out his dinner for him, he does his best to avoid touching, fingers gripping along the edges.

“Are… Did you sleep okay?” you flounder, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, desperate to restore some semblance of equilibrium.

Hal nods, offering a little hum in affirmation. The silence is suffocating, making you wish that you’d arrived later, or earlier, or maybe not at all. Mumbling your farewell, you walk back to the truck, feeling your stomach sink with every step. It’s a dreadful heaviness that pulls at every insecurity in you. Why would you ever entertain the thought that you could catch his attention? Why would your father ever think this stupid plan would work? Why would Hal ever look at you the way you want him to? You’re not the kind of Omega who turns heads wherever she goes.

“Miss?”

You’re seated by the wheel when he calls out, and though you want nothing more than to rev the engine and drive off, you can’t resist the pull of his voice, soft and sounding almost remorseful. Hal has followed you, still standing a respectable distance from you with the lid popped on the container. There’s a tentative smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Dinner smells delicious.”

Your cheeks heat up again, a silly response to a compliment that isn’t even truly directed at you. Still. It eases the churning glumness, makes breathing easier, your smile almost sincere.

“I’ll be sure to let my mother know.”

You turn the key in the ignition, the truck roaring to life before settling to an idle purr while you shift into reverse and check your sightlines. He moves quickly, one second keeping his distance, the next rushing to the driver side window, the closeness buzzing like a living thing between you.

“Thank you for bringing it out here.” His voice is soft smoke and warmth on a cold night, wrapping itself around your insecurities to hush them down. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

You nod, nostrils flaring as his scent spikes just a touch. Satisfied with your answer, Hal backs away, allowing you to reverse and drive off. Your stomach refuses to settle, your mind replaying his question over and over as you burrow into your nest that night.

_Will I see you tomorrow?_

* * *

You see him again. And again. And again. Each trip into the forest makes the awkwardness of that first dinner delivery slowly dissipate. By the second week, there’s an easy smile gracing his features as he comes to greet you. Conversations starts flowing beyond pleasantries, Hal all too eager to listen to your tales no matter the topic, laughing and asking questions in the right places.

And always,

_“You sure I can’t convince you to stay, miss? I swear, your mother must think me an insatiable beast, there’s plenty for both of us.”_

Every day, you coyly beg off, sometimes even managing to hide the blush at being asked. Every day, Hal will give a laugh, mumble “more for me then I s’pose” and walk you to the truck. And every day, you imagine your parents looking a little disappointed to see you home so soon.

Some days, when your father tarries, and it means Hal will be back late too, your mother sends you off to leave dinner for the alpha. These days, you bring something extra. It won’t do to leave the food outside, and even though you feel like you’re intruding, you bring the spare key to the cabin, sneaking in to leave dinner in the mini fridge. When he gets home, he’ll find food ready to reheat, and a little something to make up for the missed opportunity to spend time together. Flowers waiting in a tin cup on the small table. A parcel of cookies next to the boxed lunch. A book you had told him about. The first time, you feared he would be upset you had gone into his den without express permission. But then, the next day, he greeted you just as warmly, a daisy from your little bouquet tucked behind his ear.

It’s a strange companionship that you try not to linger on too much. Of course you still think he’s handsome. Your heart still stutters when he opens the door, shirt unbuttoned and all that gorgeous skin on display. Warmth still blooms in your chest every time you feel his light touch on the small of your back when he follows you back to the truck. Your tummy does a flip every time he’ll playfully call you “omega” when you talk.

But if you linger-

If you think about it too much, it starts feeling like courtship. His touches start feeling like they’re aching for more, and you would be all too happy to allow them. Calling you by your presentation will make your stomach swoop, a liquid pull teasing at scenarios you scarcely dare dream about.

You try not to linger, but you can’t deny the fact that you now long for the ride out to the cabin, for the time you get to spend with him. It makes a smug little flame flare in you when you hear other omegas titter and fawn over him, having seen him briefly in town over the weekends and gotten a smile and a polite “hello”. It’s a greedy, possessive monster that never gloats openly, simply feeding your addiction, thinking about how you will see him tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and the day-

“Sweetheart, why don’t I take dinner duty tonight?”

The suggestion has your head whipping around, the lid for the container dropping from your hands. Your mother’s voice is calm, her body language easy and open where she stands. It still raises your suspicions. For weeks now, they have been all too happy with the arrangement, what’s changed now?

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral. Two can play this game.

“We don’t wanna put you out, darling. Besides, you’ve been driving out there every day for a while now. You deserve a break. A little time to yourself.”

In the end, she is your mother, and well, she’s right. You begrudgingly hand over the container, telling her to send Hal your regards and that you’ll see him tomorrow. Her smile is a bit tight around the edges, a curious thing that you don’t understand until the next day, when you’re once again coaxed into staying home. It’s never said, but you still understand.

You’re not kept home to give you a rest. You’re kept home because Hal has gone into his Rut.

It claws at that raging part of you that has come to crave and love his company. You want to be there,  _should_ be there. It throws grand and foolish scenarios at you of sneaking out at night, taking the truck and driving out there, rosetinted dreams of helping him out. It tugs at dreams of being claimed, of not being alone anymore.

It tugs and tugs, never succeeding, tempered by your own self-deprecation and the tension around your mother’s eyes that she almost manages to hide when she gets home. Biting down, you tell yourself it’s only temporary. Your parents don’t want to put you in unnecessary danger. It’ll only be a few more days.

When days turn into a week, you start to worry. Hal should be okay now, his Rut would have ended days ago even if it was a long one. Your nerves spike every day, sinking low into your stomach when your mother once again bids you goodbye and drives off. You can’t help wondering if you’d done something wrong, something to deter him? Should you have defied your parents and still gone out to see him?

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that one day you almost miss your mother calling your attention.

“Sweetheart? You better hurry up, or that poor man will starve.”

Furrowing your brow, you look over your shoulder, finding your mother holding out a familiar container. “Mom?”

“I believe he’s expecting you.”

You don’t want to boast, but you’re pretty sure you broke some kind of speeding record driving out to the cabin, only slowing down as you turned onto the narrow trail that led up to it. He’s waiting, and for a moment, the greedy thing insides you turns joyous and elated, wanting to run up to him and jump into his arms and bask in that wonderful smile for days. Reining yourself in feels like pulling at the leash of your wolf, the whining it gives reverberating through you.

Hal doesn’t seem to have the same reservations. He sits down on the small porch, patting the space next to you and scoots in as close as he can when you join him. When he asks you if you would join him, courteous as ever, your resolve crumbles. So used to your polite declines, it takes Hal a few seconds to realize you finally said yes, nearly stumbling over himself to get plates and forks and drinks.

“I’m… sorry for… for last week,” he offers between bites of casserole, eyes seeking out yours.

“It’s okay, I understand.” You keep your gaze on the food, poking it around and trying to stay calm.

“No, I-” The consternated exhale pulls at your curiosity, and you look up in time to see him set down his fork. “I wanted to be sure.”

“Sure? What are you talking about, Hal?”

Without a word, he gets up, enters the cabin only to return a few seconds later with ripped shreds of fabric. Handing it to you, it takes you all of two seconds to recognize the delicate pattern, the faint scent of yourself that still lingered. The pillow you’d hidden away for him.

“It… took a few hits. Your scent, it’s… I thought because I’d seen you so much that it wouldn’t be a problem. I ripped this one the eve of the first day. I came in for my shift only to tell your daddy I would be out for the rest of the week, that it would be best if you didn’t bring me dinner. I missed you so much, omega, thought I’d go mad. I asked your mama to come a few extra days after it ended just to be sure I wouldn’t… that you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Separately, you understand each and every word, but put together, they spell a truth you can’t quite fathom. He wanted you safe, so he made sure that he was completely out of his Rut before asking you to resume your visits. He missed you.  _He missed you._

“…I’m only sad that we’ll have to do this again soon.”

You’ve missed a large chunk of the conversation, but even so, Hal’s last statement confounds you.

“We will?” Three months isn’t that soon, is it?

Hal gives a shy smile, picking a little at his food. “Yeah, when you- when it’s your time? It’s- Isn’t that… soon?”

He’s adorable when he’s flustered, and you can’t help but flush a little yourself. Speaking about Ruts and Heats isn’t exactly the most polite and obvious of topics, especially between unmated alphas and omegas without a partner arrangement. You pick at your nails, stomach fluttering at the idea of talking about this with him.

“Well, not really…” you begin, noticing Hal furrowing his brow.

“No?” He sniffs discreetly, your pulse racing minutely. “I could swear it’s coming. Is it not for another month?”

You blush in earnest now, the fact that  Hal is trying to determine the exact arrival of your Heat setting a dull ache thudding low in your stomach. He’s looking at you like your scent and your very being is a puzzle to be solved, waiting patiently for your answer.

“It’s…” You bite your lower lip. “It’s not really going to come. Suppressants.”

The penny drops, Hal’s expression softening into quiet realization. “Why? I mean, I know it’s none’a my business, but you… You’re lovely, and- and kind, and I’m frankly amazed you keep coming out to me like this day after day. I’d’ve thought the other alphas here would be tripping all over themselves for your favour.”

“No. No, I…” It doesn’t matter that it’s Hal, that it’s this sweet man sitting next to you, embarrassment still burns through you having to admit this. “I’ve never had a partnered Heat. Thought I was gonna claw myself to death the first time. No one’s ever been tripping over themselves to even ask for a date, let alone…  _that_.”

“Now that’s just a damn shame. I should be so low on your list of priorities because I can’t imagine someone so sweet wouldn’t be otherwise preoccupied most every weekend.” A smile tugged at his mouth, growing until he looked like the embodiment of sunshine. “Though I suppose their loss is my gain.”

“I’m sorry?”

Setting down his fork, he makes a big show of getting up, one arm behind his back, the other held out for you. Your stomach flips at his movements, his scent wafting in towards you when he leans down. What is he-

“I can’t treat you to a fancy restaurant, but if you’ll have me, I’d love to take you out.”

You hate that your first instinct is to turn him down, to wonder who set him up to prank you, to pull away because if he’s asking you out then there can only be one reason why. It sets something bubbling inside you, uneasy and gnawing. He’s handsome, he could have anyone. Discreetly, you draw a slow breath, tasting the air for any sign of lingering Rut scent. Nothing, just the soothing scent you have come to love and long for, fading back ever so slightly.

“I don’t expect anything from ya, scout’s honor.”

Hal, it seems, is more perceptive than one would think. His scent is still muted, pleasant, not moving an inch to let you see exactly where you have him. It’s so tempting, the notion of being courted by an Alpha - by  _this_ Alpha - when the other omegas are falling all over themselves whenever he’s been in town. The gnawing worry in the pit of your stomach taunts you that it’s not a courting, not like what you’ve seen, what you’ve come to expect. He is asking you out on a date. His request tastes a little like pity, but the hungry thing inside you twists and turns and longs for the satisfaction of being his company.

“Then… I suppose it would be rude of me to turn you down,” you reply coyly, taking his hand and pressing it gently.

Like other alphas, he runs hot, but the warmth is pleasant against your skin. The palm of his hand is lightly calloused from long hours of hard labour, yet when he strokes over your knuckle with his thumb, it’s with a touch so light it sends shivers down your spine.

“Not at all, miss,” he all but husks out, a sweet little smile lighting up his features. “But I’ll be very happy if you’ll allow me to take you out.”

When you leave, it’s with butterflies in your stomach and a time and place set for tomorrow. It made his scent flare just a bit walking you to the truck, saying his usual goodbye like it now means something more. It has you driving just a little more reckless, giddiness bubbling through you. Your mother notices, of course, and you can’t even bring yourself to berate her for the smug expression on her face when you turn down dinner with the excuse,  _“I already ate.”_  as you bound up the stairs to your room.

In there, time moves slow, inching forward as slow as molasses in January. Every tick of the clock is sluggish, no matter how you try to ignore it or make time pass. Picking out a pretty dress to wear takes unusually little time, try as you might to drag it out by trying it on, complete with your prettiest garters and silkiest stockings, taking careful steps in your one good pair of heels. You play around with your hair, pick through your makeup box. No matter. Time doesn’t move any quicker just because you try to make it. Seconds tick by just as rhythmically as they’ve always done; a countdown of immeasurable quantity.

It makes sure you feel it, the width and length of it in the wee hours of the night when your eyes refuse to grow heavy and sleep evades you. It lingers in the hours leading up to your date, in the small menial errands you run and the chores you do. You’re dressed and primped with an hour to spare, and even with your slowest walk, you’d still be in town well ahead of time. Your father offers to give you a ride, adding more waiting to your deteriorating patience, but you still accept.

“Knock him dead, Peanut,” he tells you with a smile, pressing your hand in his before you exit the truck.

You give him a weak nod in return, waving him goodbye from the sidewalk. Knock him dead. It makes insecurity flicker to life again, swirling through you and setting your hands shaking.  _Knock him dead. As if you could._  You walk the short distance to the meeting point, politely greeting friends and acquaintances when they pass you, trying to ignore the long glances as you wait. The tables have turned now, and time rushes, seconds slipping by you while you wait. Isn’t he coming? What time is it? Shouldn’t Hal be here by now? What if-

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, my ride got a flat tire, and we had to ch-”

Hal fall silent when you turn around, coming to an abrupt halt a couple of feet away. He looks dashing dressed up, a blue shirt tucked into darkwash jeans, sleeves rolled up to show tanned arms and the same almost-invisible smattering of hair you’d peeked during that first meeting. His hair is combed back, an errant curl hanging down his forehead that he tries to brush back stubbornly refusing to stay in place.

“Hal?”

“You… you look stunning, miss.”

Flustered, your gaze drops, fists clenching the material of the dress. Biting down, you refuse to voice any of the protests, fighting to accept his compliment. You do look good. Hal would never say such a thing just for the sake of saying it. You look good. Slowly, you raise your head, meeting his gaze and offering a trembling smile. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, arms clasped behind his back.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you offer in return, surprised that your voice carries so evenly.

Hal smiles bashfully, holding a hand for you, “I tried my best,” he tells you, finding his way back to his usual charm as you hook your arm with his. “I believe we have a date, omega.”

Shivers roll down your spine hearing your presentation. “I believe we do.”

The warmth of him, the public display of desiring your company makes something flare in your stomach, further fueled by the poorly suppressed whispers of your omega acquaintances when they see you walk through town. You realize when you walk into the movie theater, sitting down and still holding his hand, that you want to call him yours. Glancing over at him while the screen flickers to life, your eyes lock, and your wolf claws at you.

_You want him._


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day later than I planned, but it's here. Part two for your enjoyment!

“Sweetheart, you’ll be the death’a me!”

Hal’s laughter echoes through the almost empty streets, an arm slung around your shoulders to keep you warm from the creeping chill that’s tinging the air with the first signs of fall. The dance had been a bit too crowded for your liking, warm and stuffy with far too many eyes on you.

One date turned into two, turned into three, turned into shared dinners because after that first trip to the movies your mother stopped the pretense of sending large portions to Hal because she thought he was hungry. Now she would hand you the packed-up dinners, always smiling when you told her you’d try not to stay so late.

But staying late was so easy. Hal would greet you on the porch, the small table that usually sat inside standing next to it, set with two glasses. He’d sniff the air when you got out, picking up on what your mother had made and returning inside for the appropriate plates, greeting you with a kiss to your cheek when you set down dinner on the table.

He was affectionate, eager to touch, but always respectful and never straying past where your comfort zone ended that particular day. Boundaries got pushed with every passing day, every date he took you on, opening you up more to the notion that he really did find you as attractive and lovely as he claimed with each kiss, each embrace. The first time he softly pressed his nose to your scent gland with just the barest amount of pressure, drawing in a breath, you nearly lost your balance. Your knees were so weak you had to stop the car by the side of the road on the way home to calm down.

His eyes are twinkling now, laying a kiss to your head and drawing in your scent. You know he can sense it, however buried it is under the effects of your suppressants. The sweet, enticing scent of a Heat that will never bloom through your body, barely recognizable, has him more affectionate, more protective than before. You would tell him it’s silly, that you doubt anyone else would pick up on it, that it doesn’t matter, but a small part of you loves the attention, the underlying declaration in his sweet intimacy.

“Really?” you counter, looking at him and arranging your features into the coyest expression you can manage. “What could poor little me do to bring Hal Carter to his knees?”

It’s teasing, more so than you perhaps intended, and your stomach flips when Hal’s scent briefly spikes. It evens out seconds later, simmering and soft when he brings you in close to his chest and leads you in an improvised dance down the sidewalk. He smooths his cheek against yours, the tip of his nose dragging down towards your scent gland.

“Oh, a number of things, sugar. I’d fall to my knees and worship you until I could speak no more of the wonderful things you do to me,” he whispers, breath tickling your cool skin and raising goosebumps in its wake. “And when I could speak no more, I’d show you, speak to you in actions to show the power you have over me, omega.”

You’re suddenly glad for the truck being close by, your knees needing the extra support. Hal’s words, though each as innocent as the next on their own, speak of desires none of you have even dared broach yet. Not once has he mentioned your Heat, or you being on suppressants since the conversation weeks ago, never putting any pressure to have you change.

Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to take the leap.

He’s back at the cabin, you’re back in bed, your body still flushed from kissing before you drove back. The weight of his hands on your back, pressing you to him, still lingers and his scent is almost tangible as it clings to your skin. You try to breathe, try to calm the prowling wolf inside you, your true nature that you’ve pushed into the deep dark reaches of your being now pushing back. It wants, it yearns, it begs wordlessly to be released.

The next morning, you hesitate while you brush your teeth, opening the cabinet in the bathroom. For the first time in your life, you have a reason to deviate from routine. For the first time in your life, you want to. The bottle of suppressants is left untouched. You feel like you’re breaking free, butterflies bubbling up in your stomach in anticipation. The spring in your step lasts all day, your smiles are a bit wider, your greeting kiss for Hal a little fiercer when you two have dinner. Now, you wait.

One day. It’s okay, it’s not like it would happen over twenty-four hours. Still, you think you feel a tingle in your stomach.

Two days. You sneak glances while you’re out, signs that others would pick up on your scent growing stronger. Nothing. When Hal presses his nose against your scent gland but doesn’t comment, you definitely feel something. It’s disappointment, because shouldn’t your body start to catch up now and realize it hasn’t been in Heat for years?

Three days. Maybe you never had a strong Heat to begin with. Maybe it just felt that way because it was the first one. If there was nothing, then nothing would be the logical thing to happen if you stopped taking your suppressants. Maybe something has gone wrong. Maybe you’ve been on the suppressants for so long they’ve changed you, squashed down your Heat so good, it will barely register anymore.

You scoff. It’s a foolish thought.

It’s a foolish thought that laughs at your naïvite the next day. It starts with an itch that has you in a crabby mood all through morning. It continues with your body temp rising and falling to the point where you have barely put on a warmer sweater before you’re sweating and ripping it off you. It’s only when you double over in the kitchen, the bottle of water you just fetched from the fridge falling to the floor, that you realize your Heat has caught up with you. Forced down for years, it makes up for lost time. In minutes, your skin is clammy, slick already pooling between your thighs and a scorching arousal claws its way through your lower belly.

You need Hal.

You  _want_  Hal.

It takes all of your willpower and concentration to pack snacks and water, crawling upstairs for your fluffy blankets and haul them out to the truck. Though it will probably mortify you later, you are too far past any sense of embarrassment when you write a note for your parents explaining your predicament and leaving it on the table.

A shooting pain arcs through your body when you rev the engine, and tears sting your eyes before you’re even out of town.  _It hurts so damn much._  Your hindbrain screams at you to do something, anything, to satisfy the feral imperative. For a second, your left hand drifts down to press gingerly against your core, slick already seeping through your clothes. It’s a brief touch, but the relief pulls a moan from you,your eyes fluttering shut and nearly sends you careening into a ditch.

How you make it there in one piece will forever be a mystery to you, but when you finally skid to a stop outside Hal’s cabin, you could cry. The bumpy road had forced you to slow down to a torturous crawl lest the swaying and bouncing would force an orgasm from you. The pain is blinding, and you finally allow yourself a howl to voice it. You keep expecting Hal to appear, to have heard you, scented you long before you arrived. It’s only when you pull yourself and your Heat supplies to his porch that the logical part of your brain reminds you that he is at work. He won’t be home for another couple of hours.

“No, no, no…”

Another howl rips through you, clutching your blanket and snacks to your chest. You can’t wait that long, it hurts, it hurts so much and you  _need_  him. Breathing through your nose, you try to think clearly. He won’t be home for some time. Can’t change that. You can’t go back, you were barely able to make it here. Inside. Yeah, inside, you need to get inside. Inside is good. Inside has a cot, it’ll have covers and pillows inundated in his scent. Inside. It rings through you like a mantra while you rise up, moving in a haze to find the spare key hidden in a nook under the low-hanging roof and unlock the door.

Hal’s scent comes at you like a warm embrace,  making the pain in your stomach settle minutely. Your body recognizes that an Alpha lives here, relaxes in preparation. Staggering, you can only hope your body is patient.

It’s by no means a large cabin, and your Heat somehow makes it feel even more cramped. A chair falls over when you fumble past it, gaze zeroing in on the cot in the corner. It’s unmade, the covers haphazardly thrown into a pile at the foot of the cot, pillows with mismatched pillowcases bunched together into a warping collage of colours and patterns. No matter. Your wolf takes over, pulling at the covers, adding your own, setting your snacks down on the floor next to the cot, arranging pillows and digging out more from a rickety cupboard. With trembling fingers, you shed your clothes, each layer falling from you feeling like shedding skin. You whimper when you’re down to your panties, sodden from your slick. Hurriedly, you pull them off, sucking in a breath when your heated skin is exposed to the cooler air. Your Heat churns, demanding your focus again, sending you toppling into the nest.

“It’ll be okay,” you mutter between clenched teeth, turning your face into one of Hal’s pillows to find his scent. “He’ll be here soon. You’ll be okay.”

It works for a while, you couldn’t tell anyone how long. For a while there is relief in his potent scent, in shifting around the nest to make yourself cool off or heat up, in drinking water and having a snack. But only for a while. All too soon your body screams for something you’re still denying it, something to dull the excruciating pain that refuses to be willed away. Hal’s scent turns from relief to temptation, coaxing your mind to wander, to remember his muscled torso, his strong hands, the way his eyes will sometimes darken at a cheeky remark. Your hand wanders, smoothing down your soft stomach to the crux of your thighs, dragging up and down through the thick sheen of slick. It is such a simple touch, positively innocent, yet your back arches, nerves firing at the sweet pleasure it gives you. You need- You need-

“Please, Hal!” you moan, sinking two fingers into yourself, clenching around them.

It’s nowhere near enough, no stretch or pressure, just another temporary fix. Your breathing picks up, cheeks burning at the wet sounds filling the quiet cabin as you bring yourself to the edge, whining his name and imagining all the times he’s called you “omega". Any other time, the orgasm that follows would overwhelm you, leave you breathless and spent. Now, you fall back panting into the covers, fingers sticky with your slick and feeling like something is missing.

Time drags on in a haze of fitful breathing, searing pain and trying to convince yourself that Hal is coming, _he’s coming real soon, just a little while longer_. You try to keep the temporary fixes to a minimum, try to endure until it feels like something is clawing its way out of your body. Your resolve falters and strengthens in turns; you wish you had never gone off suppressants, you tell yourself it will be worth it, all while your Heat slowly but surely pulls you deeper and deeper into its throes.

_“Sugar?”_

His voice cuts through your haze, stops your fingers right over your throbbing clit. For a moment you hold your breath, fearing you’re hallucinating. It happens sometimes, or so you’ve heard. Omegas who go into heat while their Alpha is away, so used to having them there that they start hearing their voice. But then you hear him again, the worry carrying inside. You want to answer him, but all you could manage now is a moan, and you want to explain, want to ask him. Wrapping yourself in one of the blankets, you roll out if bed, fists clenched so tightly your nails leave indents in your palm. Stumbling to your feet, a single thought runs through your mind.

_He’s here. He’s here. He’s here._

Your body aches and shivers, hands pushing the door open with more force than intended, your feet narrowly taking you down the few steps without falling over. It’s a short distance to to him, his heavy footsteps closing in, but you still manage to stumble. Hal catches you, pulling you up with a little gasp when the full force of your scent hits his nostrils.

“Sugar, what’s- what happened?” There’s worry in his voice, but your hindbrain zeroes in on the small undercurrent of desire that hides right at the edge of his question, your wolf stretching in contentment.

“Hal…” The mere presence of him calms you, quenches the flames to a slow soldering. Your nails dig into his strong arms as you breathe in the scent of him. “Went off my suppressants. Wanted to- to-”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupts you gently, cups your cheeks to look you in the eye. “You didn’t- Did you do this for me? Please, darling, you didn’t have to, I didn’t mind. It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re on ‘em or not. I understand.”

It feels like a bucket of cold water is dumped over you, the sweetness of his words tasting of rejection. You shake your head fervently, gaze dropping while you speak through clenched teeth to keep from stuttering or giving in to the symptoms of your Heat.

“I didn’t do it for… for you. It was gonna happen at s-some point.” You swallow, drawing a shuddering breath through your nose and wrapping the covers tighter around you as if it will shield you from the inevitable hurt. “I just- I thought I could do it now, w-when I had s-someone…”

Without noticing, you’ve backed away from him, but Hal’s like a magnet, drawn in close and touching you so sweetly, so gently.

“Sugar, why you talking about ‘had’? You still got me, Omega. Heart and soul, all of me.” He strokes down your cheek, pulling you close to his chest to feel the warmth of him, his steady heartbeat a calm rhythm for your breathing. “Gods, you’re burning up right in my arms.”

The reminder, the intoxicating scent of him, it flares up the churning pain again. You whimper against him, opening your arms to wrap them around Hal’s waist. Groaning at the pungent smell of your Heat wafting up, he soothes his hands up and down your back.

“C’mon, let’s get inside. Can’t have you standing out here.”

Hope flickers in your chest, a small but undeniable flame to feed your desire. “Hal?”

“Gonna take care’a you, baby,” he promises, voice dropping to a husky croon. “You came all the way out here for a reason, huh? Tell me, Omega, did you make a nice little nest inside? Got yourself all comfortable for when I’d get back?”

Your knees threaten to give out under you, and you cling to him desperately as you nod, unable to voice your affirmation beyond a high-pitched whine.

“You want me to help you out, sweetheart? Do you want me to knot you?” You nod again only to have him tilt your chin up to face him. “Need you to say it, Omega. Be a good girl and answer me; you want me to knot you, help you through your Heat?”

You’ve never really been drunk - tipsy, sure - but in this moment you feel lightheaded. His words, wrapped so sweetly around his tongue and crooned out in a tone that goes straight to your core, the Alpha presence lacing each syllable. It shoots through you, intoxicating you, relaxing you and tensing you at the same time and making your answer come out on a shaky exhale.

“Yes. Please, Alpha, please. I need you.”

Hal’s chest vibrates with a low, satisfied rumble, and the next second your stomach swoops as the world is turned sideways. He’s picked you up, carrying you in his arms back inside, whispering sweet little promises about making you feel good. When he sets you down next to your nest, you cling to him, your balance still off and not wanting to part with him.

“Let me see you, sweetheart,” Hal coaxes, pulling at the covers until you relent and let them fall from you.

Your hands wrap around your torso out of instinct, the ingrained idea that you’d never be this intimate with an Alpha forcing a blush to your cheeks. Warm, work-roughened hands gently pry yours away from your body, smoothing up and down in soothing motions.

“So beautiful for me, Omega, so perfect. Gods, you smell so good.” He leans down to press his nose to your scent gland, a needy whine escaping you. “Could stay right here forever, so goddamn sweet,” he mumbles against your skin.

His sweet words and soft touches have your nerves fraying and begging for more, your knees weak and you can feel the slick lazily running down your thighs. “Hal… Alpha, please.”

Pressing a kiss to the sensitive gland, Hal straightens, looking at you with dark, lustblown eyes. “I know, baby. I’ll take care’a ya, I promise. C’mon, why don’t you get into your nest and present for me.”

Electricity sparks through you, sending you scrambling into the nest, rearranging pillows and covers to your liking, pulse picking up as you hear the clank of a belt buckle being opened and a zipper lowered. You scarcely dare look back, a mix of fear and want coursing through your system.  _Will it hurt? What if I’m doing something wrong? What if-_

“Jesus darlin’…. so pretty for me. Been wanting you ever since you came out here the first time…” His voice is low, the Alpha timbre there but speaking to you in adoration. “Gods, your scent’s been driving me crazy, Omega, like it was made just for me.”

The bed dips as he kneels behind you, careful not to disturb the nest. At your whine, he smooths his hand up your back and down again, continuing to soothe along your slick-covered thighs and groaning when he gently pries your cheeks apart to see you wet and wanting for him.

“Please,” you beg him in a whisper, finally looking back to face him, lowering yourself even more in submission. He looks glorious like this; lean, tanned muscle coiling tightly over a wide chest, his wolf present in the hungry look in his eyes and the firm grip on your hips. “Please, I need you, Hal. I’ve never- Please, I want it, I want it to stop hurting.”

He covers you then, leaning over you with his hardness pressing right against your core, and you swear you lose your breath. His cock, hard and thick, already aches against your folds, and it’s a battle to keep from collapsing into the pillows. Hal plants his hands on either side of your elbows, his chest to your back and lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“‘M right here, sugar. Gonna take care of my sweet Omega just the way she wants. C’mon, be my good girl and lemme hear ya. Ain’t no one around for miles. Wanna hear every moan, every whimper. Wanna hear you beg for what you want, loud and clear, wanna hear the wolf in your voice when I knot you.”

The moan slipping out of you is lewd, your hips pushing back to slide him along your slick folds. Hal nips at your neck, the bite just shy of bruising you before righting himself. Taking himself in hand, he slicks himself up before notching the head of his cock at your opening.

“Shit…” he sighs, gripping your hips as he slowly slides in, the stretch sating the burning sensation of your Heat. “So warm and wet for me, sugar. Thought about you during my Rut, how it would feel to ride it out with you, knot you, fill you with my pups. Oh, fuck…”

You clench around him, images of Hal in this same bed, going through his Rut and pleasuring himself to the thought of you, sparking pleasure up your spine. When he bottoms out, you moan his name, your thighs shaking at the fullness. How have you denied yourself this all these years? The stretch, the pleasure, the intimacy, it’s a heady satisfaction that makes your head spin.

“This… Gods, this is so much better. Sweetheart, I never wanna part from you. Always wanna be yours.”

With that, he starts thrusting, a steady pace to get you accustomed to his length and girth. His moans and grunts mingle with yours, guiding you along his cock and taking note of every gasp. Hal reads you like an open book, adjusting his thrusts to pull sweet little moans from you, molding your body into new positions, increasing the pace little by little. Soon enough he is slamming into you, growling under his breath to build your pleasure and make you beg for release.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Gonna clench around me and make me pop my knot? Yeah, you want that, don’t you? My good Omega wants to be stretched good, filled with my pups.”

You’re close, knows he can feel it too. It builds and builds, a tight coiling that never seems to reach the breaking point. Hal changes up his thrusts, going from long, hard thrusts to tight rolls of his hips right into a spot inside you that robs you of your words. They push you forward, your hand reaching out to steady yourself against the wall as Hal fucks you closer to the edge.

“Don’t be afraid, Omega, let it take you. I can feel you holding back.” He stops, silencing your moan of protest with a kiss to your sweatsoaked back. “I’ll be here, sugar. ‘M not leaving. Want this to feel good for you, want you to have everything you need. Got me so goddamn close, too. You feel that?” He rolls his hips one more time, and the base of his cock has swelled, catching ever so slightly at your opening. “Cum for me and I’ll do the same, lock us together, fill you up. Think you can do that, baby?”

Your shuddering reply of “Yes, Alpha” has a purr rumbling in his chest, resuming his thrusts and letting you feel his swelling knot against your opening with each push. It spurs you on, chipping away at your resolve. It would be so easy for Hal to let his knot swell to its full size, forcing your orgasm by pressing it in, but he doesn’t. He coos and growls at you, whispering sweet and naughty things to you under his breath, keeping your back arched just so to draw pleasure from you. He wants you to cum, wants you to have that and his knot, not have it because of his knot.

“C’mon, sugar. Lemme see you cum. Lemme feel you… Your Alpha’s got you.”

His voice is hypnotic, your Heat-addled mind finding its focus in the husky tone and coaxing words, the way they by turn flow from his lips, by term grit through clenched teeth at particularly pointed thrusts. It’s a looping litany of praise and gentle touches, a velvety smooth “Come, Omega” coupled with a steady roll of his thumb over your swollen clit that breaks you. The moans you have so far thought of as lewd turn into a long, loud howl, your body shaking as you clench around him. Pleasure unlike anything rolls through you, prolonged and amplified by the pressure of Hal’s knot being pushed into you, catching ever more before his howl joins yours and he thrusts in one final time and his knot pops fully.

_“Shh, shh, there you go, so good for me. Breathe, Omega, relax.”_

You’re still riding your high, the touch of his hands over your back making you tense and clench around him, drawing a hiss from you. Hal bites back a groan, gently maneuvering you to lie on your side, flush against him so you can rest. It’s a strange sensation, somehow being simultaneously detached from yourself, yet feeling so undeniably grounded and tethered to another person. Slowly, slowly, you’re brought back to the present, Hal nuzzling against your neck, curling an arm around you to keep you close, his other hand splayed low on your stomach. Your Heat has temporarily receded, a gentle warmth that thuds pleasantly deep inside taking its place. Despite knowing the it’s far from over, you feel an intense sense of relief at finally being free of the pain.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” Hal whispers, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “So good for me, Omega. D’you feel better? Need anything?”

You shake your head with a contented sigh, movements droopy, whining when you try to wiggle against him for better comfort and his knot jars inside you. He appeases you with a raspy groan and another kiss, hand drifting to your hip to keep you steady.

“Gotta stay still for a little while, baby. Gotta tell me if you need anything. Water, a snack… better position.”

The last suggestion tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Nothing. Just you,” you mumble, suppressing a yawn and pulling at a cover.

“You got me, Omega. All of me, and everything within arm’s reach for the next fifteen-or-so-minutes. If you need anything further away, we gotta get creative.”

You only hum in reply, fatigue quickly creeping up on you, and it’s no more than five minutes later when you drift off in Hal’s arm. Right then, you feel good, satisfied and safe, like the worst is over. Much as you’ve tried to forget about your first Heat, you still remember the pain, the cold sweat, the sleepless nights. Surely, it has to be easier now. You know what to expect, you have an Alpha to tend to you.

And sure, it is easier, so long as the two of you are knotting, or sleeping. Everything inbetween is just as excruciating as it was then. You toss and turn in the nest, rebuilding it over and over while Hal tries to get you to lie down and drink and eat. On day three, you agree he’ll make a quick trip into town to get more supplies and check in with your parents while you sleep off the exhaustion. You’re not sure how long you’re out, only that you awake alone with pain blooming and the cabin too hot for you to bear. Hal finds you wrapped in a thin blanket on the porch, trying to bring yourself to orgasm, and he barely gets you back to your nest before he’s sliding into you again, groaning at the tight, wet heat, knotting you fast and feral with teeth grazing ever closer to the unmarked gland on your neck.

He never actually bites. Between knottings, when your mind quiets and you’re thinking a little more clearly, you know that despite the hungry, needy noises slipping from you every time he laves over your gland or nip close to it, it would be wrong of Hal to take advantage of your state of mind and give you a bond bite. In those moments, full and content, you wonder if you will feel the same once your Heat is over, if you will still desire him as hotly as you do now.

You get your answer three days later. At long last, your Heat relinquishes its hold on you, receding until it snuffs out and leave you with only the pleasant ache between your legs and Hal’s warm body pressed against you to show it was ever there. It’s early morning when you realize it’s over, knowing from the way you drift out of sleep to find the cabin once again feeling pleasantly warm, the air a little less stuffy, but most importantly you realize you’re no longer feeling the vicious pain of your Heat. Hal is still sleeping, the even rhythm of his inhales and exhales fanning softly against your face. He looks so sweet like this, your fingertips lightly tracing the line of his jaw. There’s still the undeniability of his presentation, but gods, this is how you want to always remember him, how you always want to l-

“I can feel you staring, Omega, should I be blushing?”

His eyes are still closed, but a smile tugs at his lips and there is a teasing tone in the sleepy tone of his voice. You let out a pealing laugh, touching your forehead to his.

“All the things that happened in this nest, and this would get a big, strong alpha blushing?”

With a hum, Hal opens his eyes, the small smile growing to crinkle his eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m a simple man with a delicate disposition, I would never do anything-”

You silence him with a kiss, breathing in the scent of him. It flares as your lips press together, as warm and comforting as ever. It’s only when your head starts to swim, your breath growing shallow that you realize Hal’s scent is blooming ever stronger. It’s blazing, thick and strong in your nostrils, leaving you gasping for air.

Hal scrambles to put a little distance between you,“Shit, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to- I’ll turn it down.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’m okay, it’s just… stronger,” you try to appease him, pursing your lips a little when you sense the scent fading.

“I know, I try to keep it muted. Been told it’s… distracting. My last Rut partner said it was like being trapped in a forest fire.”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights, pressing his lips together and clenching his jaw.

“She wasn’t wrong.” Of course you expected there to be people in his past. It was a common enough practice for unmated alphas and omegas, having someone to assist during Heats and Ruts.

“Yeah…” Hal hesitates a second, clasping your hand to run his thumb over your pulsepoint. “He said I messed up his Heat cycles. Almost got him into a scuffle when a coupla alphas got fresh with him before I could get back from the place I was working at. ‘S why I try to keep it muted. Don’t wanna cause trouble for anyone.”

Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, you nod, “I can understand him. If I hadn’t been on suppressants, I would probably have gone into an early Heat, too.”

There’s a brief look of relief on Hal’s face before he kisses you back, lazily tasting you and breathing in your scent.

“Was kinda interesting being on the receiving end of that for once,” he mumbles between kisses. “Wasn’t supposed to have my Rut until a month after. But gods, seeing you every day, smelling so sweet and looking so pretty, I couldn’t- couldn’t stop it. Woke up to it, no warning. You sidewinded me, darling. I was defeated since the moment you climbed into the truck.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, the idea of being the cause of an early Rut making you want to curl in on yourself and squeal. It’s the kind of thing romance novels are built on, the immediate attraction between the big, strong alpha and the sweet, innocent omega. Maybe it isn’t as immediate as in the stories, and you certainly aren’t all sweet and innocent, but it is close enough and it has your wolf stirring inside you.

“I really didn’t mean to put you on the spot, asking about your Heat that day,” Hal continues as he lets go of your hand, eyes following his fingers ghosting over your cheeks. “Was the first day I saw you again after… and your scent was flaring a little, I thought maybe… Maybe it would be your turn soon, and I’d have to be apart from you again.”

“And would that have been so bad?” you counter, a shiver running down your spine when the pad of his thumb runs across your lower lip. “You survived once, I’m sure you’d’ve done it again if… if I hadn’t been on suppressants.”

He cocks his head, hesitating with his touch a little before replying, “What if I didn’t want to just survive? Sweetheart, I won’t be able to stay here forever. Sooner or later, I’ve gotta move on, and when that happens I- I’d be the happiest man, the happiest Alpha, if you’d come with me. It won’t be a comfortable life all the time, and I won’t make you rich, but I’ll always take care of you. I’ll love you, I’ll mark you as mine if you’ll have me, I’ll keep you warm, keep you safe, keep you… keep you sated if you decide to not go back on suppressants.”

Hal speaks quickly, words flowing from in a flurry, but your heart stutters when you realize he’s asking you to come with him, to be his. Perhaps it’s a foolish decision, but it’s made as soon as he falls silent, strengthened by the smile that almost splits his features when you breathe out “yes”, settles in your bones as he kisses you soundly, your bodies positively vibrating at the future that just opened up for you.

It’s an excitement that lingers in your muscles for days before realizing nothing’s gonna change just yet. You still drive out to him with dinner, you go on dates during the weekend, stay the night when possible. You laugh when you manage to break the cot, not from sex, but from simply sitting down in it one day. You shout when he gets a little too possessive, cry as you reconcile in hushed whispers and promises.

You plan.

You plan as much as is possible with a man who lives a day at a time. Prepare for what may come by asking him questions of what has been. Tell your parents you’ll leave when Hal moves on, which… goes about as well as could be expected when an only child tells their parents they will leave the nest.

When it finally happens, it’s with a week’s warning. A week to tie up your life and distil it down to what you can carry, what really matters. A week to say goodbye; to your parents, to life as you have known it, to part of yourself. The first night is spent on a train, tucked into Hal’s side and breathing in the soothing scent of him, dreaming of warmth around the safety of a crackling bonfire, the woodsy scent mingling with something sweeter, something you think might be your own scent.

It’s another cabin when it happens, another cot that’s just this side of too small when Hal goes into his Rut again, and you have to drop everything at work to go home. It’s four days of knotting, of satisfying as much as being satisfied, four days that end in a question, a hurried nod and teeth breaking skin while a howl pierces through the night.

It’s a bond forged, blazing through your veins, a fire that consumes you both and leaves you panting, sweat quickly cooling on your skin as you hold onto each other. Your Alpha kisses you, splays his hand low on your stomach like he always does, pressing a little to feel you tense and full under his touch, whispering with a smile:

_“Soon.”_


End file.
